Long Under the table Poems
Long Under the table Poems. Below are the most popular long Under the table by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Under the table poems by poem length and keyword.
The Immigrants
By
Elton Camp
Mexican man, father of three
Feed, clothe them, would he.
But a job is not to be found.
Not in his own hometown.
To the north he will go
Jobs to get, he’s heard so.
Come here you cannot do
We will welcome but few
Far beyond the Rio Grande
Lies a virtual promised land
But he must ignore the rule
And give his life unto a mule
Pay to him his very last peso
Trust in the mule’s say so.
Into a van a crowd to pack
Enough food & water lack
Across the miles of barren dirt
Perhaps to be killed, surely hurt.
If he is lucky and isn’t caught,
He may find the work he sought.
If any income tax he dares to pay
The INS will soon come his way
Their demand on him is very hard
Must show us now your green card
We find your morals low & weak
Because English you cannot speak
To hear you jabber in that Spanish
We deem to be so much outlandish
We hate the darkness of your skin
Never can you be an equal friend
Explain to us why you ‘re so short
And for all your faults, we will deport
You may not get a house on our street
Likes of you we aren’t willing to greet
We fear you might keep a filthy house
One running over with lice and mouse
But if to hard, manual work you’re able
We will agree to pay you under the table
Expect that your wages will be quite low
Take what’s offered, or out the door you go
Hola, Pedro, you will hear our mocking taunt
And take the low-level jobs we don’t want
And remember your own subservient place
Or we will return you to Mexico in disgrace
You illegal alien, nasty, ugly and full of sin
Though you cooperate, no way you’ll win
When menial jobs for you finally run out,
We’ll send you packing without a doubt
You’re a parasite, so work here no more
We have firmly shut and locked the door
The country’s border is closed to you tight
So that it can’t be crossed without a fight
Arizona has shown the rest of us the way
To keep such riff-raff as you so far at bay
The very same should be true in every state
Illegal immigrants real Americans so hate.
(Please realize this is a poem of satire and
is designed to show the feelings of many
in my hometown which has a large, recent
influx of immigrants. It doesn’t necessarily
represent my own views.)
Their baby girl turned out exceptional
Their baby girl is very exceptional
Her script perfect
She always had a book in her hand
Reading every spare minute
With a sponge like focus
At craft fairs, for example
She would hide under the table and read
At funeral services and church
She always brought a book
She would always read, read
For her birthday she wanted every episode
Of Criminal Minds, she never wanted toys
A book, or something stimulating her mind
To her was gold
She would also multitask her art
Oils and knitting, all self taught and really good
With her schoolwork
And sports
Swimming, karate and water polo
She was the very best at what she did
All through her schooling
Every single day
Every single day
She never received a grade less than an A
She was class valedictorian
She was phenomenal,
A swan that was always a swan
And recently she completed her first semester
At nursing school with a continued perfect record
Of all A's, all advanced courses
To me this is amazing
If I'm beaming the answer is yes
I spoke with, or should I say joked with the ex
Whose genes did she inherent? Whose?
Because It's neither of us
We laughed, one of the few times we did
I once wrote to my baby girl
Nineteen now, yet she's still my baby
I wrote to her a beautiful poem
About a blossoming rose
Growing to new heights, so elegant and beautiful
Nurtured, loved and cultivated
And she wrote back ... wherever they put me
In life, emphasizing they, I'll blossom that's my promise
I read her response over and over
In my mind, shedding tears
At her conviction, strong
I got to thinking ...
Her being uprooted earlier on in life
Watching her parents divorce, being hurt as a child
Having fears
Spurted her growth, ambition and drive
In my eyes it did
Affecting her in a way that she carried
A chip on her shoulder wanting to be the best
Proving her parents made a mistake in abandoning her
Just this past holidays, I can see a huge transformation in her
It's really noticeable, unrecognizable
She's matured faster than I wanted
Maybe she's dating, dipping her wet feet
But I see something different
I don't know what it is
She's not my baby anymore
connie pachecho
1/10/17
People say my poetry is mostly doom and gloom
But I’m a funny person and I’ll prove it to you soon
My wit and sharp ripostes are a constant delight
Let’s see if I can tell this story to prove I’m right.
I had three friends who loved booze
And the only time they didn’t imbibe
Was when they had passed out
Or were taking an alcoholic snooze
Each died doing what they loved
Drinking, sipping and guzzling
Johnny was a straight-forward drunk
Mary took refined and dainty lady-like slips
And Tommy was an out-and-out guzzler
Here are their stories, one by one
Pull up a chair and sit, let’s get to it.
Dear Mary! So refined and dainty
So lady-like in her behavior and thinking
Especially when she was drinking
She’d take a lady-like sip and gently wipe away
Any liquor residue on her lips without delay
She’d raise her very favorite carafe
To refill her dainty gold-etched antique glass
Mary’s elbow-bending was poetry in motion
Her pinky extended her glass up-ended
At an angle she felt was fashionable
For admiring gentlemen who’d not feel offended
When she drank them under the table
Her company (tres chic) an inspiration
But, Quelle domage! One evening Mary took a sip
And it went down to where it shouldn’t
She couldn’t speak so couldn’t call for help
Her swift departure was the tragic result
I wondered what dear Mary was thinking
At the end, I surmise it might have been this:
“I didn’t take an unrefined nip
Nor an undainty unlady-like sip
How inconvenient this is, such a bother
Dear me. Oh, Pooh. Oh Pish!”
A couple of weeks went by
Before dear Mary was found
When the policeman opened her door
His eyes rolled backwards as he fell over
While the landlord ran for cover
Mary’s very favorite carafe
And her dainty gold-etched antique glass
Sat on her cherished Victorian table
But the mess in the rest of the room was incredible
Mary here, Mary there, Mary, Mary everywhere
Spreading across the parquet floor with unhurried flair
Like a forgotten and unchecked plumbing drip
But at a refined and dainty very lady-like clip.
EPILOGUE:
Never inhale while upending your glass
But if you should happen to do so
Whether sipping or dripping
Be sure and do it with class.
Coulda been
the Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t tell the truth so much
Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man,
if I was kill willing
to have a shogun trigger touch
Coulda been
chief consigliore renown
for the don Corelone spiked crown
But I never wanted to know
where the blood money
was body bag buried underground
Coulda been dark knighted Haman Faustian
All I had to diablo do was unjust be Equus no-good;
give breaking bad Darth Vader viper counsel, wearing a cobra hood
Terminator words that would crush the skull bones
Coulda been the Vice Hand
standing behind the golden chalice image,
ruling drunkenly on the Babylonian Empire throne
Coulda been
the Spartan Hand of the Grecian warlord,
but I loved peace too much
Told the Jezebel whisperers of the royal court,
don’t try to finger me to be the next flesh merchant of death ...
I don’t tear traffick in such ~ City-state grunts suffer enough
Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand hatchet man,
if I had promoted Herod cockatrice thoughts
to condor hatch crucifixion plans
If I had been parrot inclined
to whisper
some patriot mischief in Pharaoh’s ear ...
I coulda been
sitting next to the pirate power,
making the brown-nose boot lickers fear
Coulda been
the Iron Hand of the President,
if I truly had a crafty guile mind to
take a sticky dip ...
deep in them pockets of citizen you
Coulda been
the sixth finger of king Midas’ hand
But, breaking the golden rule,
just wasn’t the ambitious rear end
I was willing to career bend
If I was more Balaam money bag motivated —
Fee willing to put a Judas hand under the table;
and with an Iscariot silver patch-eye gaze,
look the other way as freedom get disabled
I coulda been
Pharaoh’s right hand man
I coulda been
the one who doused the torch
in Lady Liberty’s hand
I coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man
I coulda been
the one who lit the Pilate
in Nero’s hand
Coulda been
the right Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t roar the Judah truth so much
But I was born
a left hand of the Zion King,
who gave a righteous Resurrection roar,
echoing throughout eternity
the rhino & cougar conundrum
fair enough to say that when
s/he got into it, when she dove
head-first into the pool of passion with
both eyes closed & arms outstretched,
that there was an inherent excitement
to be found attractive at his/her age
by someone so much younger &
all the fantasies in the head
from carnal sex to just getting to
stroll down the street with
this young thang hangin’ off her/his
shoulder (and the whole world seems to be
jealous)
run rampant,
as the romance gets off with a bang,
banging like bunnies persists &
s/he feels reinvigorated,
for this new young person in his/her life
becomes an integral part in
the beefing up of what had been a falling
self-esteem,
a failing personal value, a
slave to the depreciation of age &
this culture that wants absolutely nothing
to do with.
and as time passes, s/he even begins to think
that this could become something real &
that all the doubts of his/her friends
may not be proved correct &
after convincing him/herself that these very
doubtful friends are in fact
jealous,
s/he quietly, secretly, tells him/herself
that quintessential delusion…
that this person just might be
“the one.”
quick came the wandering eyes &
the insecurities came bubbling,
with an oozing jealousy of everyone around &
the double whammy stirring in the mind
that this young thang that said rhino/cougar
had hooked, could simply leave one day
with the rest of their lives ahead of them,
having burned away “the prime of one’s life”
like the proverbial candle wick.
so in fear, the rhino/cougar begins to do things
that they never thought they would,
in order to “keep” the young thang in their lives---
in the bedroom, they bow to the will of their
young lover, in the bar, they half to at least meet
them half-way under the table &
if need be, they must lose weight, dress in revealing
clothing, mingle with every friend, no matter
how dirty or strung out,
so much so, that the rhino/cougar lives in eternal worry
that their days are numbered,
wondering that if they get out now,
that they’ll have enough pizzazz to hook somebody else,
or that they will have to push themselves to the
furthest limit, in order to stay in this.
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
Imagination trims
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Hollywood rounds
Quills deliver
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
Tragedies
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Dead
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
In English there are different types of words.
Like articles, prepositions, nouns, adjectives and verbs
They have special functions and they teach
Us to distinguish the various parts of speech.
NOUNS of course are words for "things"
Some we can touch or feel or put inside a box
Like BOOKs and BOYS and DIAMOND RINGS
And ELEPHANTS and CAKES and CLOCKS.
(On second thoughts an elephant might just break the box)
Abstract nouns speak of things we cannot see,
Like hope and love and eternity,
Verbs are action words for "doing",
Like "TRY " and "FLY"
- while words like "eating"and "gluing"
and "perusing",
These are words
half noun/half verb....
Like "believing", " waiting", and "amusing",
These Gerunds are somewhat more confusing.
An adverb describes how something is done
Like how BEAUTIFULLY she sang, or how QUICKLY he had run,
These adverbs help describe the verbs,
While adding interest to the words.
An adjective describes a noun
Like a CLEVER boy, or a SILLY clown
Always descriptive, it tells us more,
About the PRETTY girl, or the DIRTY floor.
A preposition gives us an indication,
Of where something is in relation
To something else,
Like under the Table, ON the shelf
Or AGAINST the wall,
Or THROUGH the doorway, DOWN the hall,
Like AROUND the corner, or IN your dreams,
Or OVER the rainbow, or sprinkles ON your ice cream.
Conjunctions, like "AND", and "BUT", "BECAUSE", "HOWEVER"
Help connect our sentences together,
"THEN", "ALTHOUGH","UNLESS","BECAUSE"
Join phrase to phrase,
And clause to clause.
An article is either definite or not,
AN eskimo, A spaceship, THE Polka-dot,
If there's only one of something then use "the"
But if it's one of many, then choose "a".
The interjection -
Express feelings like
joy or excitement,-
Like a huh?! Yea !! wow ! Gee
or a yay Of "delightment" -
Or not so nice feelings
Like groan, sigh or a moan-
All kinds of feelings- whether happy or dark,
Interjections usually end with an exclamation mark. :)
I hope that I have left nothing out
If I have give me a shout,
I hope this lesson helped to teach,
You all about our parts of speech.
When I was very young, Dorothea a Nun walked in. A holy lady, a gift of God was she. Scared by her habit, I ran and hid under the table. As I peeked under the long table cloth, I watched Dorothea walk around. Being so young I did not know she was a Nun, I just thought she was scary. I wish I had talked to Dorothea, at the party that day. If we had talked then I could say, I had talked with a holy lady. As I got older I learned what I missed at the party, I missed a gift of God on that special day.
Date Written 5/17/2020
*THIS IS NOT MY STORY, BUT IT IS A STORY I THINK EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW!
There was a man working at our school. No one knew he was. The teachers kept a close eye
on him while he worked outside around the school property.
Two weeks into the school year, an 8-year-old girl came up to the man and said, "What is
your name sir?"
The man smiled at the little girl and said, "Freddy."
"Would you like to play hide and seek with us", the girl asked.
Freddy bowed his head and covered his eyes, "Thirty...twenty-nine..."
The little girl's face light up with excitement, and she went and got her friends, and they hid
around the school.
"...Three...two...one...ready or not. Here I come"
Freddy looked around the school saying, "One...two...Freddy's comin for you..." Freddy was
unsuccessful in finding the children. So, he went down to the cellar where he lived and saw a
little girl hiding under the table. "There ya are", said Freddy. The girl sprung up from the
table with excitement. "That was fun", the girl said. "Do you know any other games we could
play?" Freddy thought for a second, "Well, if you can keep a secret, I'll take you to a place
that no one else knows of." The girl vowed to keep it a secret.
Hours passed, and the little girl returned home from school. She ran to her parents,
crying. "What's wrong?" her mother asked. "There's this man at school. He took me to his
cave, and did something terrible." The mother and fathers faces burned with anger. "What
did he do to you?" the father demanded. The girl turned around, lifted up her shirt, and there
were four giant cuts, like from a bear claw, going across her back.
Hours passed, and a group of parents got together to confront Freddy. Freddy saw them
coming, and ran to an old abandoned mill. Freddy ran inside, with the parents running after
him with bats and knives. He locked the door, and the parents filled bottles with gasoline,
light them on fire, and threw them in the window. Freddy was burned to death, and the
parents kept that terrible act their secret.
Form:
The Terrible Waitress
By Elton Camp
The hostess met us at the door
We two had been there before
Thanks for coming again today
We have a table over this way
Menus she placed as we sat down
“Mary Lou will soon come around.”
The waitress had long, stringy hair
Dirty uniform showed no hint of care
We had sat there for quite a long while
But for customers, she showed no smile
To us, Mary Lou promptly began to yak
While her chewing gun she did smack
Tell me how are you guys doing today
Were the first words that she did say
We were annoyed at her way to greet
An elderly couple at their café seat
“You guys” might be okay for some teens
Who were wearing tee shirts and blue jeans
Mary Lou didn’t seem to think it was funny
When she said, “What will you drink, honey?”
“Honey” might be OK for a two-year old child
But at such familiarity I was really was riled
To the waitress I commenced right then to say
Please never speak to a customer in that way
Under the table my wife gave me a hard kick
I knew well the meaning of that little trick
It was a clear warning to me that I be nice
And I certainly didn’t want to feel it twice
When we both ordered the golden fried fish
Mary Lou said, “Oh, that meal is so delish.”
When customers give that order I delight
On the way from the kitchen to take a bite
It was an hour before she brought our food
I don’t want you to think that I was rude
But the call for your plates wasn’t clear
I finally saw them and brought them here
Your food may not be warm and fresh anymore
I know because this has happened to me before
The cooks working the kitchen are pretty lame
It’s not my fault. They are the ones to blame
We had little time to eat when she spat,
“Are you two guys still working on that?”
Mary Lou appeared at our table very soon
Did I tell you that I only work until noon?
In only a few minutes my shift is complete
If you’ll give me my tip now, it will be neat
And next time in this joint you happen to be
Tell the hostess that you want to served by me